


Emma Swan vs. The Bake Sale

by distant_rose



Series: Little Pirates [17]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, In which Emma is tired and doesn't have time your drama, adorable and sassy children guaranteed, bake sale drama, crazy pta parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distant_rose/pseuds/distant_rose
Summary: Emma Swan is the Savior, the Sheriff of Storybrooke, a daughter, a sister, a wife and a mother of five children. Her life is a bit hectic. God forbid, she bring store bought brownies to the youth football bake sale.





	Emma Swan vs. The Bake Sale

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t normally update two days in a row but this prompt was too good to pass up. imhookedonaswan made a comment on one of the prior installments about Emma bringing store brought brownies to a baked sale with judgmental moms and I really couldn’t pass it up. It was just too brilliant for me to let slip through my fingers so I decided to write it. Anyway, thanks again welpthisishappening for always lending an ear and constantly reading blocks of text that I send your way. You’re amazing. Comments, questions or concerns? Flail at me on tumblr @ distant-rose.tumblr.com

Before she got married, Emma Swan admittedly thought about how her life would be if she survived the Final Battle. She had fantasized about an idyllic life where Killian and she only had to battle a monster once a week, would go to Henry’s track meets, eat dinner with her parents and have an absurd amounts of sex on a daily basis. She had imagined that she and Killian would have a few years to grow comfortable with each other before deciding whether or not they would have children. And even more admittedly, Emma had imagined that they would have one or maybe two kids, a boy and a girl preferably, and they would be beautiful, charming but respectful of their parents and wouldn’t get into too much trouble. (She always assumed that any child of theirs would have some mischief in them, but would be smart enough not to do something crazy like perhaps steal their grandfather’s sword and go swinging it around like it was a baton. Seriously.)

That was a fantasy though, and some deity up there on Mount Olympus had seen those fantasies and laughed their ass off because that was not the reality that Emma Swan was granted.

The reality was that Emma Swan and her family only ate with her parents twice a week, Henry had quit track during sophomore year to run the school newspaper and while she still had a healthy sex life, it was constantly interrupted by her four (yes, four, she was still uncertain how they had managed to get that number) small children who didn’t seem to understand the meaning of a closed door. Those same children, of course, were beautiful and charming, but they didn’t often understand the meaning of the word ‘respect’ and they seemed to get into trouble more often than they were out of it. Emma was now very familiar with the school principal, who seemed to have her on speed dial, and her family health insurance now covered absurd things like “falling off a roof” and “accidentally eating harmful paints” because apparently, she needed that. She’s pretty certain that the Emma Swan of eleven years ago would be terrified of the reality she had been given and would have gotten her tubes tied.

It wasn’t that Emma hated how her life had gone since the Final Battle had been won. She adored her life, her husband and her kids, but sometimes she just wanted a day off or at least a twenty-minute nap. That’s all she asked for. Well, maybe she also wanted for a clean kitchen too. And a magic proof cookie jar. And a vacuum that could actually pick up dog and cat hair. And a way to detect if a suspicious brown stain was chocolate or poop. Okay, she wanted a lot of things, but at the moment, she really, really, really wanted that nap and it was only nine in the morning.

“Sometimes I envy you. You have nothing to do except eat and sleep,” Emma whispered to her youngest son as she attempted to get him to eat the chopped strawberries she had prepared him for breakfast. At six months of age, Neddy was just starting to eat solid foods and he was showing himself to be just as fickle as his older siblings. “I would kill for either right now.”

“Bah,” Neddy replied in the same eloquent fashion of all babies who hadn’t learned to speak yet.

He batted Emma slightly on the nose was his strawberry coated fist and looking up at her with unblinking and impossibly blue eyes. Neddy’s eyes were nearly identical to Killian’s and Wes’s eyes and now that he had hit the sixth month mark, Emma was certain they would stay that way instead of going green like Harrison’s and Beth’s.

“Bah is right,” Emma agreed with a nod of her head, holding a strawberry up in front of his mouth in hopes he would take the bait. “You are a man of many words, Neddy Jones. A gentleman and a scholar. Now if only you would eat as well as you talk.”

“You know he can’t actually talk right?” Emma’s eight-year old son Wes called as he entered the kitchen. “Because he can’t. If you were expecting him to, then you might want to talk to a doctor.”

Emma sighed, rolling her eyes and turning to give Wes a very unimpressed look.

“When did you learn to become such a wise guy?” she asked, her voice sounding incredibly tired even to her own ears.

“Birth,” Wes replied, making a beeline to the cookie jar and putting his hand in to take one of the last remaining Girl Scout cookies in the house.

“That explains a lot,” Emma remarked before she realized what Wes was doing. “Hey! Put that cookie back, kid! It’s literally nine in the morning. House rules! No cookies before noon.”

“Dad had one this morning so I don’t know what house rules you’re talking about,” Wes replied defensively.

None of this surprised Emma; Wes arguing with her or her husband eating cookies at nine in the morning. Killian had a massive sweet tooth and an intense fondness for Girl Scout cookies. In fact, Emma had taken to hiding them to keep him for eating them all, especially the Tagalongs which were her favorite. Wes, on the other hand, seemed to want to argue and fight with them every step of the way and Emma was dreading his teenaged years, which were right around the corner.

“Your father is an adult and rules don’t apply to him,” Emma replied, still not impressed with his arguing skills. “You’re a child and you’re going to put that cookie back or so help me Westley Graham Jones, I will make you regret it.”

“Fine,” Wes muttered, putting the cookie back in the jar and giving her a dirty look.

He practically stomped his way over to the cupboard that held all of the cereal and Emma half the mind to tell him off for the attitude but she was still incredibly tired from Beth being sick all night and Neddy refusing to fall asleep and it just wasn’t worth it. If the kid wanted to be an ungrateful brat, then Emma would let him be an ungrateful brat.

“Is Henry coming to my game today?” Harrison asked, walking into the kitchen and looking at Emma with hopeful eyes.

He was dressed in football gear, looking bigger and older than his ten years, which was a good thing Emma supposed because her father had insisted he play for the U12 team instead of the U10 team so he and Neal could play together. Emma was almost certain that David wanted to groom her giant sweetheart of a kid into a Division One talent. The thought made her inwardly snort. It was a fool’s errand. The kid didn’t have a mean bone in his body.

“Not this time, kiddo,” Emma replied with a sympathetic smile. “He’s still in Seattle this weekend, but I’m sure he will try to make it next weekend. You know that he loves being there for you.”

“Oh okay,” Harrison mumbled, immediately wilting at the news and walking towards the counter with his shoulders slumped to get bread for toast.

It broke her heart that he was so upset about it. Her two oldest boys were incredibly close despite the rather large age gap. Henry was without a doubt Harrison’s hero and at times a source of confidence. Harrison always seemed to be less shy and surer of himself whenever Henry was around. Archie was currently working on a way to make Harrison less anxious without Henry, but so far it seemed to be a fruitless endeavor.

“Hey,” Emma placed her hand on Harrison’s shoulder pads. “Just because Henry isn’t there doesn’t mean you aren’t going to totally rock today. I bet you anything that Grandpa David is going put you on both the offensive and defensive line and if you get seven tackles, which you totally can, I will buy you ice cream. Pinky promise. Sound good?”

“You have strawberry on your nose,” Harrison mumbled, not really answering her.

Emma brought her hand up to her face and sure enough, she had mushed strawberry on her nose. She sighed and wiped it against her sleep-shirt. She didn’t want to add any dish rag to the dirty pile and she was going to put her shirt in the laundry later anyway.

“How come you don’t buy me any ice cream when I score goals in soccer?” Wes asked, still in a foul mood.

If there was anything that Emma had learned over the years, it was that parenting multiple children at the same time was hard; almost impossibly hard. Each child was different and needed a different style. Harrison needed constant encouragement and help with his self-esteem while Wes, who had no confidence issues to speak of and was nearly as wild as a Lost Boy, needed a firm hand to keep him from exploding up his own face. Beth also needed a firm tending to because she had a mischievous streak of her own, but seemed to work better under Killian’s handling than Emma’s. Neddy, who couldn’t walk or talk yet, thank the gods, was an unknown factor at this point. She was slightly hoping that he would become a mild-mannered nerd who didn’t need much handling at all.

Her kids didn’t necessarily seem to get that they were different and needed to be treated differenlyt. It wasn’t uncommon for them, namely Wes, to complain or imply that there was favoritism towards certain members of the family over others. It often made Emma want to scream.

“Well, if you score three goals, then I will buy you ice cream too, okay?” Emma replied in the most patient tone she could muster at the moment.

“Two goals, not three,” Wes countered.

“This isn’t a negotiation, kid. Hat trick or nothing,” Emma said firmly.

“Bah!” Neddy cried, picking up the leftover strawberries in front of him and tossing them across the table, which Emma had just cleaned not even twenty minutes ago. It seemed her youngest was feeling a little left out of the conversation.

Emma sighed and closed her eyes, quietly counting to ten to keep from screaming. This was her happy ending. Her life was great. She had wonderful husband and children that sometimes acted like normal human beings. This was a tiny bump in the road compared to dealing with curses, evil witches, psychotic villains and the sort. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Just as Emma was starting to calm down, her husband’s voice cut sharply through the kitchen.

“I don’t think so, Westley Graham Jones. Put the cookie back in the jar.”

Emma opened her eyes to see Killian standing by the doorway with a pale looking Beth on his hip. He was glaring at their son, looking nearly as exhausted as Emma. The son in question looked guilty as hell, hand outstretched. There was no cookie in his hand, but there was one levitating in the air not too far from his fingers.

“You got to be kidding me?” Emma exclaimed in exasperation, bringing her hand up to her forehead before it ran back through her hair. “Kid! I told you like five minutes ago, no cookies before noon!”

Emma snapped her fingers and the cookie disappeared, returning back to its home in the cookie jar. Wes pouted, not even looking remotely sorry, which really got on Emma’s nerves because he had deliberately disobeyed her.

“But Dad ate a cookie this morning!” He repeated his earlier argument. “I saw him!”

“Westley, did you buy the cookies?” Killian asked in a tired tone.

“No.” Wes answered sourly.

“Are you above the age of eighteen?” Killian continued.

“No.”

“Do you pay taxes for this house or anything in this house?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t get make any decisions in regard to cookie eating,” Killian concluded, giving him a firm look while also running his fingers down Beth’s back. “In fact, because I can say ‘yes’ to all of those questions, I’m going to make a cookie eating decision now. And you’re not getting any for the rest of the weekend.”

“For real?” Wes asked, looking very dismayed.

“For real,” Killian confirmed, looking like he really wanted to roll his eyes. He then turned his attention to their daughter who was still resting on his hip. “Think you’re ready to come down, love?”

“Yeah.” Beth’s voice is a bit on scratchy side, but she climbed down from Killian’s side with ease.

Killian placed his hand on Beth’s forehead for a moment, frowning to himself before allowing his fingers to make their way through her long dark hair. He looked a pinch concerned and Emma could only assume that her fever was still running high.

“You’re still warm, Minnow, are you sure that you’re feeling alright?” Killian asked gently.

“I’m good,” Beth mumbled, leaning into his touch. “Pirate queens can’t be sick. You said so yourself.”

“They can if they’re only six-years old and have been throwing up all night. I don’t want you making yourself worse. Can’t run a crew if you’re running yourself ragged,” Killian replied, leaning down to plant a kiss on Beth’s forehead.

“I’m tough,” Beth said stubbornly, puffing out her chest and standing a little taller as if that pose would somehow convince her father that she was, indeed, tough.

Of course, Beth didn’t realize that Killian already thought she was the toughest bean in the world and had proven so when she was only two. Emma wasn’t ever going to forget how Beth had hit her head against a ceiling fan when she had been on Killian’s shoulders and how they had rushed her to the emergency room to get stitches. Instead of crying when the doctor had been sticking the needle into her skin, she had growled at him. Emma remembered vividly Killian’s look of disbelief and laughter when he realized their toddler was more pissed off than scared about getting stitches on her face. “That’s a tough lass,” he had commented, pride filling his voice rather than guilt.

“I know,” Killian responded while placing another kiss on Beth’s forehead, looking straight at Emma rather than at their daughter. And for a moment, Emma was positive he too was recalling the stitches incident as well.

“Hey Mom,” Harrison called suddenly, standing in front of the open refrigerator and frowning. “Did you make brownies for the bake sale today? Because I don’t see them.”

“What?” Emma frowned, a fusion of confusion and panic running through her. Bake sale? What bake sale? What was he talking about?

“You know, the bake sale that the moms are running today to help raise money to buy new uniforms for the team,” Harrison explained, looking just as panicked as she felt. “You said you would make brownies for it.”

“I did?” Emma asked, closing her eyes and hoping that this was some elaborate prank that Harrison was uncharacteristically playing on her.

“You did,” Harrison replied solemnly. “Did you forget?”

“Fuck…” Emma muttered and she dropped her head gently against the table. The game was in an hour and a half. She had absolutely no time to get dressed and make herself look like presentable human being as well as make brownies and bring Harrison to the game on time. She was the Savior, not Wonder Woman. (Though she kinda doubted that even Wonder Woman could do the same in a time crunch with four children.)

Neddy giggled next to her, flinging more strawberries about. One landed on the back of Emma’s neck and she suddenly realized that she dropped the mother of all swears in front of her impressionable six-month old child who would probably say his first word at any moment

“Shit,” she exclaimed, raising her head from the table. Her whole body twitched as the strawberries slide down her neck into the back of her shirt. She pointed a finger in Neddy’s direction. “Don’t repeat anything Mommy says. Your grandmother would kill me if your first word was a swear.”

Warmth spread through Emma’s shoulder and she glanced to see her husband had placed his hand there. As her eyes met his, his hand gave a gentle squeeze.

“Would you like me to drop by the store and buy something while you get dressed, love?” he asked gently.

“Could you? I mean you’re not really dressed yourself, but if you could, you would be the best because if I don’t bring those brownies, I will never hear the end of it from Aurora and the others on the Parent Association,” Emma said, smiling at him.

“If that’s what you desire, it will be my pleasure. I’ll just throw on some actual trousers and I’ll take Beth and Wes with me to the store,” Killian replied, dropping a quick kiss on her lips.

“Thank you. You’re my savior,” she replied, incredibly grateful to have him.

“I believe that’s your title, love,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit as his thumb brushed against her cheek. “But I’m always happy to be the Savior’s savior.”

“Why do I have to go?” Wes frowned, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He looked the epitome of displeasure and once more, Emma was dreading his teenage years.

“Honestly?” Killian arched an eyebrow at their son. “Because I don’t trust you alone with those cookies and we’re on the last box of Tagalongs. Your mother needs to get dressed and she can’t watch you and keep you from taking them, you little thief.”

“I thought the preferred term was pirate,” Wes retorted.

“It is,” Killian agreed, the corners of his lips twitching. “But regardless of terms, I don’t trust you with the cookies alone and my word is final. You’re coming with us.”

Killian practically dragged Wes by the back of his shirt as they headed out the door with Beth walking slowly behind them. Emma frowned as she watched her daughter follow them without her usual enthusiasm. Regardless of what Beth said, she was certain that her daughter was still pretty sick and was only pretending to be okay. Emma sighed and picked up Neddy.

“Come on, you,” she said gently, giving the boy a kiss on top of his mop of black curls. “Let’s get you and me clean and dressed so we can watch your brother decimate kids that are two years older than him.”

It took Emma a record twenty minutes to get herself and Neddy bathed and dressed. By the time she returned downstairs, Killian was waiting for her with two tins of brownies that Emma recognized as coming from the bakery section of the grocery store. She smiled, glad that he had gotten those over Wes’s preferred zebra cakes.

“The crew is all buckled in the car waiting for us. Do you want plate these so they don’t look like you just bought them?” Killian asked, grabbing their son out of her hands and bouncing him. Neddy let out a squeal of delight.

“No. I’m not going to lie to them. There’s no point in it. Destinee McRae or whatever her name is will know they’re store bought from a mile away and I’ll never hear the end of it,” Emma sighed, picking them and gesturing with her head for them to go to the car.

When they arrived at the field, Harrison immediately broke into a sprint, muttering something about being late and coaches that were going to kill him. Killian looked down at his watch and frowned.

“The game doesn’t start for another ten minutes and he only missed a few seconds of the warm up and Dave is the coach. What in blazes is he going off about?” he asked, a bit confused.

“This is Harrison we’re calling about,” Emma said with a sigh as she adjusted her hold on Neddy. “He freaks out when we’re less than fifteen minutes early to a dental appointment. He likes to be early in case something happens.”

Killian gave her a look like he wanted to say more on the subject but didn’t want to say it in front of their other children. Emma understood the sentiment. She looked around for the bake sale stand, hoping against hope that none of the really anal mothers were manning it.

When she spotted the stand she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was only Ashley Boyd who seemed to be running it. Ashley was probably the most manageable and sensible out of the other mothers, which meant there would be very little cajoling over the brownies. However, at the same time, Emma was a bit confused. Ashley had two children now, Alexandra and little Thomas, but Thomas was only seven years old; nowhere near old enough to be playing in a U12 football game. Emma frowned.

“Everything alright, love?” Killian asked, noting her expression.

“Yeah,” Emma replied faintly. “Yeah. Everything is fine. Why don’t you go find my mother and the little ones and go sit with them. I’m just going to drop these brownies off and wash my hands of this.”

“You sure you don’t want me go with you and fight off the judgmental harpies?”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his very adept description of the Parent Association mothers.

“No need. It’s just Ashley,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. “I shouldn’t be long.”

“If you say so,” Killian responded, smiling a bit. “But if any of those surly ladies show up and try to pick a fight with you again, just remember you’re the Savior and you’re taken on more fierce foes than them. Their nattering is nothing but bored and jealous chatter.”

Emma made another amused noise in the back of her throat.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she chuckled.

“Would you like me to take Ned?” Killian asked, gesturing to their youngest, who was sitting on Emma’s hip and focusing on the teething ring in his mouth.

“Nah,” Emma replied. “I’ll keep Bug with me. He makes for a good distraction if the ‘harpies’ show up.”

“As you wish.” Killian bent down to give her one last quick kiss. “Good luck and raise hell if you need to.”

Ashley’s eyes lit up as Emma approached with both the brownies and Neddy. It became clearly very quickly that Ashley was more excited to see Emma’s son than either herself or the brownies.

“Is that Bug?” Ashley asked in an very enthusiastic tone.

Emma laughed.

“It is,” she said. “And I’ve got some brownies for the bake sale. I forgot about the bake sale so they’re store bought. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Brownies are brownies. The kids aren’t going to care. It’s all good,” Ashley dismissed with a wave of her hand as she came closer. “Hey there, Handsome! Can I get a cuddle?”

“You may,” Emma laughed placing the brownies down on the table and handing her son off to Ashley. “He loves giving cuddles to his favorite daycare teacher.”

Ashley held Neddy close to her, smiling and running her finger down his cheek. Neddy gave her a smile around his teething ring, nuzzling his head into the crook of Ashley’s neck.

“I will never get over how much of a monster cuddler he is,” Ashley said with a smile, running a hand up and down Neddy’s back. “He’s such a sweetheart. He’s a joy to look after. He almost makes me want another. Almost.”

“Yeah. I got lucky,” Emma agreed. “He’s a good boy. I wish he would stay like that forever. They get less cute and more complicated once they can walk and talk. They’re always easiest at this age.”

“Do you hear that, Bug?” Ashley laughed, looking down at Neddy. “Mom doesn’t want you to grow up!”

“You call your son Bug?”

Ashley and Emma turned to see Aurora approach them with a look of pure judgment on her face. Emma internally sighed. Aurora was exactly the last person she wanted to run into.

If there was anything that Emma hated more than dealing with immature, screaming children, it was immature parents. In fact, parents normally held the persona-non-grata spot on Emma’s tolerance list. Aurora had never given much of an issue to Emma before. They were never close, but they weren’t enemies. At least, they weren’t until Emma’s son Harrison joined the U12 football team and Aurora threw a great big stink about Harrison’s age and how he should be playing at “his proper level.” Emma was more than convinced it had something to do with the fact Aurora’s son played the same position as Harrison on the defensive line. On top of that, Aurora was near militant about food and Emma was pretty sure she could recite little Philip’s allergies in her sleep.

“It’s just a nickname,” Emma said, taking her son back from Ashley and holding him a tad protectively.

“Yeah. They call him that because he’s got these killer big blue eyes,” Ashley exclaimed, still focusing all of her energy on Neddy. “And the fact he likes to be snug like a bug in a rug. He’s a cutie pie.”

“Ashley’s right,” Emma chuckled, slightly amused that Ashley was aware of their nicknaming tendencies. It didn’t necessarily surprise her however. Emma had put all of her children save Henry through Ashley’s daycare. She knew her kids as well as anyone.

“Interesting,” Aurora replied, sounding like she wasn’t interested at all. “Did you bring the brownies, Emma?”

“Yeah…” Emma replied, somewhat confused. “I thought that Ashley was running the stand though…”

“Oh no, I’m not,” Ashley clarified. “I’m here because Alexandra is cheerleading for the game. I was just holding down the fort until Aurora came back from the bathroom.”

“Gotcha,” Emma said with a nod, feeling a little dismayed. She really liked Ashley and she tended to be a bit more reasonable than Aurora.

“Emma, are these store bought?!” Aurora asked, looking positively scandalized.

Emma closed her eyes briefly for a moment. This had been exactly what she had been expecting when she arrived at the field. It was half the reason she brought Neddy with her to the bake sale stand. It wasn’t so much of a distraction for the other mothers as much as it was a shield for them. Emma Swan couldn’t knock someone’s lights out if she had a baby on her arms.

“Yes, Aurora,” she said calmly. “They’re store bought. I just didn’t have enough time to make some and I didn’t want to come empty handed so I had Killian buy some.”

“Emma, you’ve known about this bake sale for weeks. I sent an email almost weekly about this. Don’t say you didn’t have enough time. I told you sent you an email on Monday.”

“Aurora, I have four small children,” Emma responded, not willing to take the Princess’s chastisements. “Neddy is teething and Beth has been sick for the past few days. Plus I had to arrest three Vikings this week for diner dashing on Granny and I had to get my car fixed since Henry wrecked it last time he was here. Forgive me if I’ve had more stressing matters on my mind than a bake sale.”

Emma’s explanations seemed to fall on deaf ears however because Aurora was still glaring murderously at the brownies, still in their packaging, on the bake sale table.

“Whatever. It’s bad enough that you brought processed brownies. Who feeds their kids these? Are these even sugar free? Gluten free? Nut free? Vegan friendly?” Aurora asked, rounding Emma with her hands on her hips.

“Store bought brownies are fine. My kids eat them all the time and I promise you that they haven’t died yet,” Emma replied, barely holding back an eye roll.

She was pretty sure Aurora would have a fit and call child services if she revealed Wes’s love for Little Debbies and Zebra Cakes. “And I have honestly no clue. Killian bought them while I was in the shower.”

“Great,” Aurora replied with a huff. “Great. Now I’m going to have to label them so everyone knows that they’re not friendly brownies.”

“Not friendly brownies?” Emma stared at her in disbelief. “They’re regular run of the mill brownies, Aurora. It’s not like they’re nuclear or something.”

“No, but kids like my son can’t eat them!” Aurora hissed through clenched teeth. “Kids who have celiac disease or who are allergic to nuts cannot have these brownies. They could die, Emma! That’s why everything is labeled! At least tell me you have a pen so I can write all of this stuff down.”

Emma glanced down on the table and sure enough every single food item was labelled. Nearly everything on the table was vegan, gluten-free, sugar free and made with products that were free of GMOs. She honestly didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. It seemed like children with all dietary diseases and allergies had a variety of choices, though they didn’t look necessarily appetizing.

“I have a pen in my car, Aurora,” Ashley said with a slightly awkward smile. “I will go get it for you.”

Emma nearly screamed at Ashley with her eyes not to leave her alone with Aurora but Ashley merely gave her an apologetic smile and a final ruffle to Neddy’s hair before sprinting off to go to her car.

“Look, Aurora, I’m sorry that I brought store bought brownies and that your son can’t eat them, but like I said, I genuinely forgot and didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“I honestly would have preferred if you came empty-handed, Emma. My son is going to see these brownies and he’s going to want one and he can’t. I thought having a mini circus like you do would make you more sympathetic to the dangers of food allergies.”

Emma’s jaw clenched. A mini circus? She wanted nothing more than to punch her in the face, but thankfully for Aurora, Neddy was nestled against her chest and she loathed more than anything to put him down.

“None of my kids have food allergies and just because you’re frustrated with me that doesn’t mean you can insult my kids,” Emma replied tersely.

“Please,” Aurora sniffed. “People have said worse.”

That was it. Emma was done. She wasn’t going to stand here and get chastised by a woman who had hired an nanny to look after her only child. She couldn’t punch her in the face like she wanted to, but that didn’t mean she had to stick around.

“You know what?” Emma said lightly, adjusting her grip on Neddy. She perched him a bit higher so that his wild curls tickled the bottom of her chin. “I did what was asked. I brought brownies. I don’t have to stand here and help you. In fact, I’m going to sit with my husband and watch my son start over yours despite the fact he’s only ten. Have a nice day.”

Aurora’s jaw dropped at Emma’s words and she looked like she wanted to say something but Emma didn’t wait for her. She spun on her heel and went to go find Killian.

When Emma finally found her husband, her mother and their kids, the game was already seven minutes into the first quarter. Wes and her younger siblings were nowhere to be found but Beth was laying across Mary Margaret with her head in Killian’s lap, looking positively miserable. Killian was running his fingers through Beth’s hair, watching the game.When he finally noticed Emma approaching, he offered her a smile.

“Still sick, Little Beth?” Emma asked her daughter as she approached.

Beth made a mumbling sound before burying her face in Killian’s stomach.

“She’s still a little under the weather but she’s enduring as always. Hello, love. You were gone for awhile,” Killian commented.

Emma sat next to him, giving him a quick kiss before responding.

“Apparently it’s the end of the world if baked goods aren’t vegan, gluten-free, nut-free and sugar-free,” Emma informed him. “How’s Har Bear doing?”

“He’s going well. He has two tackles already,” Killian reported. “Neal is also doing well. He got himself a touchdown. Your brother is quite fast.”

“The touchdown is expected. I mean, I’ve seen how fast that kid is when he’s going a naked yard dash away from my father but Harrison has two tackles? You sure it was our kid?” Emma asked in disbelief.

“Of course. He immediately picked up the other boys and brushed them off, making sure they were okay,” Killian responded with some amusement. “What’s this about vegan and all of those free-somethings?”

“Okay, yeah that definitely Harrison,” Emma laughed. “And I know. Apparently you can’t just sell regular baked goods at a bake sale. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“I see. Well then, fancy a wager, Swan?” Killian asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’m all ears,” Emma responded, burying her face in Neddy’s hair and watching her husband’s amused expression.

“I bet you anything, including the Jolly Roger, that those brownies will be sold out before anything else on that table,” Killian stated with a grin.

“Oh, that’s a given. Only a fool would bet against that.”

Sure enough at the end of the game, they walked past the bake sale where Aurora was doing her best to sell off vegan cookies that had apparently been made with apple sauce. Only one brownie from the store bought batch remained and Emma smiled to herself as she watched a child buy the last one.


End file.
